


happiness is the cookie aisle

by engmaresh



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Being Out, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 02:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11887578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: If happiness is a place… it’s the biscuit aisle in Sainsbury’s. And anywhere else I am with him.Ian and Mickey go shopping.





	happiness is the cookie aisle

“Oreos,” says Ian. He picks up one of the blue rolls of cookies and drops it into the shopping basket.

Shaking his head, Mickey fishes it out of the basket and puts it back on the shelf. “No.”

“Yes.” Ian picks the package up again and moves determinedly down the aisle. They need eggs next.

Huffing, Mickey hurries after him, cramming something out of the pocket of his jeans. “Ain't on the list, asshole,” he argues, shaking the messy shopping list he’d scrawled on the back of an old receipt in his boyfriend’s face.

“Screw the list.” Ian feels guilty the moment he says it. He and Mickey had gone over the list the night before, checking the fridge and cupboards several times to make sure they were only going to buy what they needed. Living on their own, paying rent even for a tiny shithole like theirs means budgeting, means sticking to it. But he’d seen the Oreos, and been suddenly struck by a craving. Besides, they can still afford one package on top of the rest of the things on the list. And if Mickey can have Pringles on that list, he can damn well add Oreos to it.

“Look,” he says, taking the crumpled piece of paper from Mickey’s hands. “We’ll just scratch off the peanut butter. Done.”

Mickey looks at him like he’d suggested murder. Hell, suggesting murder would probably faze Mickey less. “Fuck no. The peanut butter stays.”

“Then we’ll take off the syrup. You should eat less sugar anyway, you’ll give yourself diabetes.”

“Yeah,” Mickey scoffs. “Like Oreos are a health food, Gallagher.”

“Hey,” says Ian, and edges closer, bending a little to bring his mouth to Mickey’s ear. Mickey jerks back slightly, eyes darting around to see if anyone is watching, relaxing when he notes the aisle is clear. “Maybe later I’ll show you how I twist, lick and dunk.”

Mickey snorts. “If you’re thinking that sounds sexy, Cookie Monster, you’re dead wrong.” But he doesn’t make Ian put the Oreos back and allows him to lead the way up the aisle. In fact, he even lets Ian rest a hand on the small of his back...until the edge of a shopping basket rounds the corner shelf. Ian pulls his hand away and keeps moving, but Mickey freezes up completely, putting several paces between himself and Ian, and turning to inspect a shelf full of digestive cookies like they hold the secrets to the universe.

Ian sighs quietly and tries not to feel hurt. He knows this has nothing to do with him, that Mickey can’t help the fear, that residual fight or flight instinct beaten into him by Terry. As a couple, they’re not much for PDA anyway, but sometimes Ian just wishes they could do something simple, like hold hands in the cookie aisle, just like the men behind the cart.

They seem to be having the same argument Ian and Mickey’d been having minutes ago. “Jaffa cakes?” says the one with the basket. He makes a face. “No, put them back.”

“I like them,” his partner says, dropping the package into the basket. Basket guy rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, and I’ll find them in the cupboard next month, unopened.”

“I eat them!” Jaffa-cake guy insists. “I just don’t gorge on my snacks on them like you do.”

They pass by Ian, completely ignoring him as he watches them as inconspicuously as possible. Their hands are linked through their entire trip down the aisle.

A quiet “Ey,” comes from his side, and he turns to see Mickey. He looks embarrassed, and doesn’t quite meet Ian’s eyes. But Ian can feel his fingers brush the inside of his wrist, and stroke the flat of his palm. His hand tingles. It’s not quite hand-holding, but it’s a start.

“We need to get eggs,” he says.

“Okay,” says Mickey. He stays by Ian’s side for the rest of the shopping trip.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this post](http://allthelonelyplaces.tumblr.com/post/163795574880/i-know-we-dont-get-happily-ever-afters-in-real), in which Alan Cumming talks about holding hands with a friend in public and "'If there’s a gay kid in here with his folks, frightened that he’s a freak, don’t you think that it might give him hope, seeing two guys wandering around, being themselves, getting their groceries, like everyone else?' If happiness is a place… it’s the biscuit aisle in Sainsbury’s. And anywhere else I am with him."
> 
> I frequently struggle with the decision to keep being out because I'm "straight passing" (which is an utterly BS concept btw), but every time I read something like this I remind myself why I want to keep busting out of my revolving door of a closet. Even if it's a pain in the ass.


End file.
